


play along (make believe it's real)

by mildlyobsessive



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Insanity, M/M, Oh My God, Psychosis, Schizophrenia, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Weirdness, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5430053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildlyobsessive/pseuds/mildlyobsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>love (noun): a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	play along (make believe it's real)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger for mental illness, so please be aware.
> 
> Title from Buzzcut Season by Lorde. 
> 
> Who wants Phan angst? Well, I did, anyway, so here ya go.

_Love (noun): a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person_

Dan had always assumed that when you loved someone, you saw them in everything; in strangers on the street, songs gently playing as background noise in shops, a glint of light that caught your eye in just the right way. The world was supposed to be nothing more than a reflection of that extraordinary individual, that person that meant more than anything else.

So maybe he hadn't loved Phil as much as he thought he had.

Because Dan _tried_ , was always straining to find those little signs, examined every building, every frowning person chanting into their cell phone, everything, _anything_ , but he was starting to think that there was nothing there _to_ find.

A song was just a song and the London sky was always much too cloudy to be considered anything like his eyes and all the stranger that vaguely looked like him had to do was tell the homeless man on the side of the road to fuck off and it was gone.

Maybe the little reminders had left when Phil left, jumped in his suitcase as he had slammed the door in Dan's face, screaming that he needed a break.

Screaming, yelling, swearing. Dan had never heard Phil sound like that before, hadn't thought he was capable of even producing the noise. Quite frankly, it had knocked him on his ass. 

"It's _too much_ , Dan! Too fucking much! The arguing and the yelling and your 'I don't really give a shit' attitude! If you really care so little, I guess it won't bother you that I'm getting the hell out of here. I need a break, Dan, a goddamn break! Feel free to leave me the fuck alone."

_break (noun): a pause in work or during an activity or event_

Were pauses supposed to last three years?

Because taking a 'break' did, after all, imply coming back, finishing what was started, picking up where it was left off. But Dan didn't exactly get the feeling that Phil intended to do that, what with the fact that his calls still went straight to voicemail and his attempts at Facebook stalking led to notices that he had been blocked.

But activities ended, after all, as did events. People go home. People forget.

And if all Dan had been was work, well, then perhaps this was Phil's way of retiring.

_puppy love (noun): an intense but relatively shallow romantic attraction, typically associated with adolescents_

Was that all it had been? Fool's gold? Sugar-less chocolate? A cheap Wal-Mart remake of a classic movie? Never the real thing, never quite as beautiful. Had they only loved like children did, oblivious to what they had been missing?

Maybe they were always destined to be temporary. No, Dan doubted that that was the case. Destiny was bullshit, an excuse designed to make people feel better about wasting their lives away. Phil bailing hadn't been written in the stars, or whatever the hell the saying was. Their stories were written by their own hands, ink staining their own fingers. And that meant that it was his fault Phil had left. There was no one to point fingers at, to shift the blame unto. Fuck, personal responsibility sucked.

It was time to face the music (the music that should remind him of Phil but didn't. Maybe it never had). Phil was gone and Dan was the reason why.

_gone (adjective) : no longer present; departed_

Gone. God, the word hit Dan like a bullet finding its mark. Gone as in disappeared. Gone as in never coming back. Gone as in Phil had reached into chest, grabbed his heart and walked out whilst crushing it in his fist.

Dan's fault. All his fault.

And, yet he kept glancing at the door, staring and wishing and always half expectlng Phil to walk in, laughing. Maybe it was all a joke. A tasteless, cruel joke. Dan would have laughed anyway. Would have been glad to, as long as it meant Phil was back.

Dan's laughing as he thinks this, the sound tearing out of his mouth as sharp and sudden as a car alarm. He's hysterical, he's lost it, he is an abandoned puppy still waiting for his owner to come for him. 

But the owner never comes, and the dog just sits and stares, wishing and hoping and always, _always_ expecting.

_insanity (noun): doing the same thing over and over again and expectlng a different result_

Dan knows he's crazy. He's obsessed, bent like a paper clip, dull and faded and peeling away at the edges. Phil. Phil did this to him. But, then again, Dan made him leave, forced his hand, so once again he has no one to blame but himself.

What a strange cycle of self destruction he's trapped himself in.

Anyway, Dan knows he's crazy, but _this?_. This is ridiculous, this is absurd, this has to be another cruel joke, some kind of prank gone wrong.

Because PJ's over and Dan's crying, but when he chokes out that he misses Phil, PJ's face scrunches up like he's confused.

"Who?"

And Dan isn't sure whether his blood boils or freezes over because "that's not funny, Peej. It's _not __."_

PJ's worried now and Dan can tell, can read the furrowing of his eyebrows and the concerned flicker in his eyes. PJ isn't kidding and Dan can tell and Jesus, he is so, so scared. 

And then everything's dark. Pitch black and quiet, save for a song playing softly. Dan doesn't know where it's coming from. Maybe no where at all. He's crazy, right? 

_psychotic (noun/adjective): someone who demonstrates extreme emotion or behavior due to a disconnection from reality_

When the world rearranges itself, PJ is screaming to a 911 operater, begging for help. "Something's wrong with my friend. Oh my God, something's very wrong." 

And Dan laughs. 

Dan heaves with laughter, curling in on himself, tears running down his face like passengers escaping from a sinking ship. And that thought only makes him laugh harder because the accuracy of it is fucking _beautiful_. _He_ is the sinking ship, he's the fucking Titanic, and he let an iceburg by the name of Phil Lester plow right into him. 

He doesn't even realize he's been talking out loud, narrating his thoughts for he world to listen in on until PJ's saying that he doesn't know who he's talking about, that no one he's called knows anyone named Phil, that Dan needs help, and, shit, he needs it fast. 

And so Dan laughs harder still. He laughs because he really has got to hand it to them, to all of them. They've got him good, haven't they? What a damn fool he's been. And he's writhing on the floor, surfing on waves of hysterics, muttering that that was fun and all, but the joke's over now. They can start laughing now, too. It's all okay. 

Dan laughs until EMTs burst into the one-bedroom apartment. 

He laughs as they load him on to a stretcher, as they whisper around him like bees buzzing in his ear, something about psych wards and doctors. 

And maybe Dan starts to realize that it's not a joke around the same time they're slipping a mask over his face, pumping him full of chemicals to make him sleep. But then it's too late. 

It's always been too late.

He hears music bubbling up from somewhere he can't quite place, and he strains his ears, desperate to make out just the slightest tinge of Phil in the melody. 

But there's nothing. 

Which, if you think about it, makes sense. How can you be reminded of someone who never existed at all? 


End file.
